Aerith and the Sage
by roisaber
Summary: Aerith can't sleep, so she goes downstairs only to find the Sage of Cosmo Canyon tending the village bonfire. They debate philosophy but it seems like the Sage only has the obvious to teach.


Aerith rolled over twice, trying to fall back asleep. But the pressure in her belly only grew more intense until she finally gave up and gave into one of the most basic biological urges.

A hot stream of urine splashed against the side of a deep shaft, and Aerith could hear it plinking into a cesspool somewhere far below. CosmoCanyon's solution to the problem of sanitation was thousands of years tried and true. No doubt that in a day's time, or a week's, the night soil that accumulated in the small village's cistern would be emptied and carried out to the town's modest agricultural fields, used to return phosphorous to the soil and continue the long circle of life that kept the backwater fed from generation to generation. Aerith wiped herself gently and went back to her cot. Sleep eluded her in spite of her best efforts, and she finally gave in and went down to the village bonfire that was always kept ignited.

Aerith judged by the moon and the stars and gauged the time as just after midnight. Only Bugenhagen was still awake, tending the flames with a charred steel poker.

"Ah, young lady," he said, taking notice of her. "You're welcome to take a seat."

Aerith stared long and hard into the miniature inferno that flung skittish shadows on the mesa walls.

"What are you thinking about this cold night?" Bugenhagen asked.

"Death."

Bugenhagen was silent for so long that Aerith feared that she had offended the man. She was just about to offer an apology when he knocked over a small log in the middle of the fire and finally spoke.

"I've studied the Planet Sutra, and the Ghost Sutra, and the Sutra of the Undivided Continuum for a long time. I've read the latest cosmological publications from MidgarUniversity to boot. I've read the doctrinal scholars of Wutai, the stoic philosophers of Nibelheim, and all manner of utter nonsense from quacks all over the world. I make the pilgrimage to see Seto once a year on the anniversary of his martyrdom." Bugenhagen snorted. "Do you know what I've really learned, in all that time?"

Aerith shook her head. "No - what?"

"Only the same damn things everyone knows by the time they're fourteen! That we are born, we live, and we die in due turn!"

In spite of herself, Aerith laughed. Something about Bugenhagen's tone suggested wry humor comingled with bittersweet self-deprecation, and she sympathized with the old man immediately. The pair sat in silence for a long time. Bugenhagen poked the weary fire, stirring up embers that floated upwards as if to join the glowing orbs shining in the uttermost heavens beyond the spheres of the Planet's sisters.

"I've been having… bad dreams," Aerith admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"Nightmares. I see a city of broken shells lying at the bottom of the sea. A chapel of water and alabaster illuminated by light so green it's almost a liquid. And," Aerith paused before continuing. "A short, sharp pain."

Bugenhagen was quiet for a long time. So long that Aerith found herself growing irrationally and inexplicably angry.

"Well?" she asked hotly, swallowing a lump in her throat in danger of turning to tears.

"In ancient times, our ancestors believed that dreams came in two types. When we go into the world of dreams, the spirit world, we pass through one of two gates. The Gates of Horn and Ivory. A pun in their language, you see; their word for horn sounded not unlike their word for a fulfillment of prophecy, and ivory was similar to their word meaning deception. So what we see in dreams can indeed be an omen of the future, but it can also be an illusion just near enough to the truth to occlude it.

With my telescope I can see the rings around Gersemi Minimus, and with my sagecraft I can perceive much of a person's unspoken and unrealized motivation. But the future isn't mine to see. One school of theology, the more sophisticated school in my opinion, even withholds knowledge of the future from Gaia Herself. Gaia's knowledge can perhaps be limited to true things; it seems to me that Gaia does not perceive the truth among an infinite number of falsehoods as though a needle buried in something much bigger than a haystack. But the future isn't _true_. A drop of water may fall one way or the other off an outstretched palm, but until the truth is established by the event, even Gaia cannot know which way it will fall. The truth appears only as a retrospective."

"I still have a long journey ahead of me," Aerith mused in reply. "I'm not sure how much of a comfort that is."

Bugenhagen eyes suddenly sparked. "Well, take comfort! It means that even those who would do anything to stop your journey are just as lost and ignorant as you!"

"You're not much of a comforter, are you?" Aerith asked with a smirk.

"I'm called a _sage_, not a therapist. People that come to me to hear only what they want to hear are certain to leave disappointed."

They were quiet for what seemed like hours, sharing a pensive, but not uncomfortable, silence. Off over the eastern horizon, behind the mountains, the very first lightening of the pitch black sky signaled the eventual arrival of dawn. The nighttime air carried a prickling chill. The fire continued to crackle, and though Bugenhagen allowed it to burn low, he added just as much firewood as needed to prevent it from failing entirely.

"I hear the voice of the Planet," Aerith said. "But that's not all. Sometimes, I hear the voice of my mother. My real – well, my biological mother. What happens to our souls when we go into the Lifestream? Do you think we just… dissolve into everythingness? Or is it possible that part of her survived?"

To Aerith's astonishment, Bugenhagen began to laugh quietly, which steadily grew into a bellow of mirth. She almost thought the sage was mocking her, but there was something too raw, too honest, in his laughter for her to believe it was a chastisement. Finally the old man quieted down long enough to get his bearings and answer her.

"You think you've presented me with some great paradox," Bugenhagen said, jabbing his stick at her. "But you haven't thought about it clearly enough at all! Think, girl, of the food that you eat and the night soil that you excrete."

At this Aerith blushed, but didn't interrupt.

"You take the Lifestream into you and the soil receives it back from you. But you still have your own thoughts, don't you? You live on the bottom of a sea of air. You breathe it in, and it dissolves into your blood. Where does the air end and Aerith begin? Where does the Lifestream end and Aerith begin?"

"It's easy to say that when you're a Great Sage," Aerith replied almost without sarcasm. "But when you're just a young woman from the slums, a foster child; pursued by a madman and an all-consuming corporation – it's difficult to share your sense of philosophical detachment. Or integration. Whatever."

"Then just breathe," Bugenhagen advised. "Then just breathe. Drawing breath and releasing it is the most profound wisdom in the world. The only wisdom, if you ask me."

"Then a baby is the wisest creature of all."

Bugenhagen laughed and clapped his hands together with delight. "Now you're getting it! But for this old man, it's time to catch some shuteye. Waking up at noon to accommodate you people is just too exhausting. My heart is with the nighttime stars."

He paused. "If I were to venture a guess, you'll be leaving soon."

"I'm being pursued, and I bring danger to everywhere I go," Aerith answered quietly.

"Heh. I hope you find the rest you're looking for, young lady."

With that, Bugenhagen hauled himself up on his walking stick and hobbled to the bridges that would lead him back to his own personal bed in the observatory. Aerith sat for a long time, staring into the fire. The light from the flames cast eerie shadows on the mesa, always in motion, never ceasing. The light jumped from her face to a nearby wall to a wooden fencepost before being replaced by darkness, and then once again by light. Eventually she fell asleep.


End file.
